Bump In The Night
by padma patil
Summary: An AU Harry story in a small town where Voldemort is viewed as a type of Boogeyman, and things aren't quite what they seem.


Title: Bump In The Night (working title..)  
  
Written by: Zoe R. Parker  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just having fun. Don't sue ;)  
  
Plot Bunnies: This is a total AU Harry story, there is no magic, it's not in the UK (at least I haven't specified exactly where Ambrose is). Voldemort is viewed as a type of 'boogey man', and therefore this is a horror genre. (Don't hate me if I kill your fav character. *snicker*)  
  
Author Comments: FF reviews are your friend! And they let me know what you like.. so, doooo it ;pbr  
  
1981 - Prologue  
  
The rain hadn't ceased for three whole days. The gutters amongst the streets had begun to clog with fallen leaves, and the young children who once ran amongst the rain now drifted inside to huddle around the fire with their worried parents. For three whole days it had rained, and it showed no sign of stopping.  
  
Some of the power in the small town had begun to flicker. Half the houses on the East side had gone completely out, forcing those to find refuge with other friends, or to retreat towards the school gymnasium where many families had already found their makeshift home.  
  
On Fifth Street, there stood a grand house, which had been erect since the founding days of the town of Ambrose. It was once beautiful, with three stories and exquisite Victorian boarding around every window and door; including a breath taking arch giving entrance to the front doors. There was also large porch with a swinging chair in the corner where the still young couple would sit and cuddle under the sun or bright moonlight. But the rain had ruined most of that; the white, and blue paint had begun to fade, a chain on the swinging chair had been broken, and some of the shingles had fallen into the gutters.   
  
This was one house, however, that did not seem to be afraid of the never-ending rain, even if it had begun to ruin their loving home. Although, under the intense green eyes of Lily Potter, it was apparent that lines of worry were already beginning to show on her young face.   
  
The house had belonged to her parents for generations, and had been passed down to her when her parents passed on to the other world. When Lily married, she was given the house in full ownership with her new husband, James Potter. And when young Harry was born, he too, would become the owner of the grand house when his parents moved on.   
  
It was slowly becoming the fourth morning where the rain had yet to stop, and most would have been asleep by this time. But instead, Lily found herself awake, staring outside her bedroom window to look out at the storm. She had never witnessed such a thing, but she had heard of the never-ending rain before. Her parents had lasted through a similar ordeal, the downpour lasting seven days and seven nights. Her father had been able to fix the house after that, but Lily worried that they would not be able to save it. The house was getting old, and both herself and James didn't have much money left to put into it.   
  
A pair of arms suddenly found their way around Lily's waist, and she looked over to see James resting his chin on her shoulder. "Come back to bed, Lily," he cooed, "The rain isn't going to stop by staring at it."  
  
She sighed; her husband was too right, as he usually was. She turned on her bare feet, and encircled her hands around his wrists before leaning up on her toes to give him a simple kiss on the mouth. "I want to check on Harry first," she said, releasing him.   
  
"He's asleep, no need to go and stir him. Come back to bed with me."  
  
But, unfortunately, Lily was a worrisome mother and therefore she wouldn't have been able to sleep without knowing her baby was all right in his crib. James' attitude to this seemed to reflect a young child being denied his favourite toy, as she whisked out of the room and out into the hall.  
  
As she walked across the unusually cold hardwood floor, she could see the harsh attack of the rain against the windowpanes that lined the walls; windows that would, usually, cast a shadow of mysterious moonlight against the opposite wall. A crash of thunder suddenly made her jump as she walked past the fourth window, and she had to grasp a hand on the banister leading downstairs to catch herself from falling. Taking a long breath, she scolded herself for being so timid and turned towards young Harry's door.   
  
The storm was very loud, indeed, but even over the pounding on the rooftop and windows, Lily could have sworn she heard someone whispering on the other side of the door. But that was impossible; James was back in their bedroom and Harry was only a year old, much too young to actually talk. Curious, she pressed an ear against the white door, and tried in vain to listen over the echoing noise of the house. Unable to hear anything, she grasped a hand around the handle, and began to turn it very slowly.  
  
A sheet of light spread out into the hall as she pushed the door open and glanced inside. Lily hated to be so craven, but the storm seemed to bring out the coward in her. She once more castigated herself, as it was obvious the only person in the room was her sleeping baby boy. A smile crept upon her lips as she walked across the room towards his crib and leaned over to check on him. Sure enough, Harry was there, sound asleep and looking extremely peaceful.   
  
"Harry," Lily said softly, as she moved a wisp of his hair away from his face. She went to lean down to kiss his forehead, but suddenly felt a chilly presence in the room, causing her to stiffen. James' was not one to sneak up on people, and she was sure he would have already let himself known if it were him.   
  
"Lily..."   
  
The voice, itself, caused a shiver to crawl down her back. She was panic-stricken, standing over her only child with an unknown person standing behind her. She had two options, stand there and let the person attack, or grab Harry and run back towards James. But neither of those actions were taking place, and she was sure she had little time to decide.   
  
A hand rested upon her shoulder and she let out a small scream lodged in her throat, but even this was loud enough to wake poor little Harry, who at once began to cry out for his mother. With a sudden burst of adrenalin, she picked up Harry and ran towards the open door. She didn't care to check who the person was, letting her feet race her back towards her bedroom, where she knew James kept their handgun hidden in the bedside table.   
  
"James! James!" She suddenly heard herself yelling over the sounds of Harry's cries, expecting him to come storming out of the bedroom. But no such thing happened, so she struggled towards the bedroom door; not daring to glance back over her shoulder for the mysterious man.   
  
"James! God damnit, why won't you answer!"   
  
Harry continued to cry, his tears pouring down his angelic cheeks and his sobs slowly becoming screams. Lily swore her head was about to burst as she managed to open the door and slam it behind her. "James! There's someone in the house!" Her breath was heavy, as she tried to lock the door. "James!! Wake up!"   
  
After locking the door, she turned and let out a strangled gasp. Never in her life did she expect to see what she saw, as she raised a free hand up to her mouth to suffocate most of her horrid screams. There, on the bed, lay James, looking ironically peaceful, in their queen sized canopy bed. A blanket covered his body, but the blood soaking from it didn't leave much to the imagination of what had happened to her beloved husband.   
  
Falling to her knees, her thoughts screamed in her head why this had happened to her. The Potter's had always been good people, they had never made enemies, and they had always tried to contribute to the town's cause. And they had just finished celebrating Harry's first birthday; now James would never see his son grow up and become a man. Lily cried as the intruder pounded on the door; it was quite possible she wouldn't see Harry grow up either, nor would Harry see his third birthday.   
  
The pounding on the door was becoming louder, and the chain keeping the door locked was beginning to creak. She cursed not replacing it sooner, as it had been part of the door for the last two generations of owners. In a panic, she glanced around the room, careful not to look in the direction of the bed, for somewhere to hide Harry. If the lock was going to break, she wasn't about to let the both of them die as her husband had.   
  
She scrambled to her feet, clutching the crying baby to her chest, as she raced towards the closet; their was a hidden cabinet in the wall which she prayed someone would find her dear boy in if the worst were to happen. "I love you," she sobbed, kissing her son's forehead and placing him inside the cabinet. She then shut the door, and glanced once more around the room. "The gun!" She had forgotten about it, and quickly raced towards the bedside table.  
  
She was just about to open it when a hand clasped hard around her wrist, causing her to scream out in terror. The hand was cold, and clammy, yet so familiar. "James…?" She looked up at her husband, with tears in her eyes. But James did not speak, although he held her tightly. "James? Are you still alive?!"  
  
Lily's heart leapt, as she watched her husband's mouth move, but words did not escape his lips. His eyes were glazed over, and surely he must have been dead by now, but his mouth continued to move as if trying to warn his wife.   
  
"The man is clearly dead."  
  
The chilling voice had returned once more, but this time it was not from behind the locked door, but standing beside her. James's lips had ceased moving, and his tight grip had loosened and fallen beside the edge of the bed. Angered by this, Lily turned towards the mysterious intruder with eyes drowning in emotion.  
  
"Why? Why have you come into our home? Who are you!"   
  
The man did not speak, but instead grinned as if he had gone completely mad. He seized the redheaded woman by her shoulders and hoisted her up to her feet; Lily felt in a daze as he did so, unable to move or struggle in his icy grip.   
  
"Where is the boy?"   
  
She refused to answer, as she tried to strain her eyes away. She loved her son very much, and although she did not wish to die, she would rather see that Harry had a chance at life. As she continued to strain away from his eyes, she felt his hand twist her head towards his own. Lily couldn't scream, but she felt like doing so as she stared into a pair of eyes that closely resembled slits of a snake. His full face wasn't in clear view because of a dark hood, but she swore to herself that he wasn't human. No human could look so terrifying.   
  
"Fine, have it your way."  
  
Her eyes widened as he pulled a shimmering knife from a pocket she could not see; the blood from James still fresh upon the blade. Lily then whimpered as he pressed the blade against her jaw line, and trailed it down towards her collarbone; a chilling feeling spread around her body as she felt the blade dip slightly into her skin, and then slid gently, but quickly, across her neck.   
  
Lily attempted to scream, but came out gargling, as she reached a hand up to her throat where blood was hastily spilling from the cut in her neck. Her eyes were rolling, as she slumped down onto her knees, gasping for air. Slowly everything was blurring, and the colour of the normally white room was becoming red. She tried desperately to hold her neck tightly, but felt the strength in her giving out. "Please... don't let him find Harry..." She thought, but even her thoughts were dying out.   
  
And then suddenly everything was deaf, and Lily had become blind, as she slipped into a sleep that she would never wake from. Her last attempted words slipped into the deafness.   
  
"Harry..." 


End file.
